Morsels of Time
by Comic-cake
Summary: This is my attempt at a touch of sweetness, some hints of humour and a sprinkling of melancholy. Rogan!
1. Chapter 1

Hello! It's me again!

There are no words to describe my disappointment at England's performance in the World cup (and going out to Germany…_that_ bloody hurt!). So how can I cheer myself up? Yes, you've guessed it; absorb myself in a bit of crazy Roganness!

The word 'drabble' springs to mind…something I toyed with in another story recently.

:-)

* * *

There's an enigmatic charge of excitement in the air and only Rogue translates its true meaning: Logan is back.

She doesn't understand _how_ she knows, nor does she give the unexplained insight any consideration.

He throws open the door and looms in the entrance, dark and dishevelled, a formidable presence.

He's immediately drawn to her sweet scent and glow of youth and they embrace affectionately, warmly, maybe a fraction longer than an observer would describe as platonic.

When they eventually break their clinch he regards her fondly.

"Miss me kid?"

_"Yes,"_ she thinks to herself.

"No," she answers with a rich and inviting smile that lights up her entire face.

He grins, instantly forgetting the loneliness of being on the road.

* * *

"So Wolvie's back, huh?"

Jubilee watches her best friend intently, trying to interpret her reaction, desperate to uncover the feelings that Rogue keeps so fiercely guarded.

"Do you think he'll make his move this time?" Jubilee's eyebrows wriggle up and down suggestively, "Or will he continue to agonisingly draw out the inevitable?"

"I've told you before Jubes," Rogue swats her playfully, "It's not like that between us."

"And I'm telling you Roguey, I see the way he looks at you. It's _exactly_ like that."

Rogue responds with a shake of her head, her denial steadfast, "You've got it wrong, I'm just a kid to him."

Jubilee continues with a grin, ignoring her friend's rebuff, "I think you might just be the girl to tame the wild Wolverine."

_"Why would I want to tame him?"_ Marie silently asks herself, _"I kinda' like him as he is."_

* * *

His eyes are drawn downwards by a wink of reflecting light, just where the buttons of her shirt fasten, and a fraction lower than his eyes ought to go.

She blushes at his gaze, reaching for the object that has caught his attention, hastily pulling his identity tags up from beneath her shirt.

"You wear those?" he asks in surprise.

She doesn't answer. Instead she pulls the tags up over her head, offering them to him.

He glances at where they rest in her open palm, reading the familiar engraving:

458 25 243 WOLVERINE

In a single fluid motion he scoops them from her palm and loops them back around her neck, sweeping her hair up over the chain.

"Keep them," he says, "They suit you."

* * *

"Focus Rogue," Xavier's steely eyes glint with determination, mirroring her own, "The control is within you, you just have to unearth it."

She concentrates until she can no longer stand the painful pulsation in her head.

"I can't," she finally whimpers in defeat.

"You can," Xavier responds sternly, sighing and trying yet another tact to motivate her: "How much do you want this Rogue?"

_"More than you will ever know,"_ she thinks, wondering if Xavier picks up her words.

There's a low hum as he wheels himself around the over-sized desk, settling by her side, just as he always does after every intense and repeatedly unsuccessful session.

"Your control is in reach, I can sense that with certainty, but something within you is holding you back from gaining that discipline," Xavier squeezes her gloved hand, speaking softly now, "So tell me Rogue, what are you afraid of?"

* * *

"Level eight," Logan comments as he strides towards her, having watched the entire DR simulation from the observation deck, "I'm impressed."

Rogue breathes heavily, flushed with exertion, her long dark hair swept back in a ponytail, a few escaped platinum strands sticking to her face and neck.

"I'm training," she replies, her eyes glittering with determination, "To enhance my hand-to-hand combat."

He considers this for a moment, a smile rising on his lips.

"You wanna' up the tempo?" he asks.

She raises an eyebrow questioningly as he steps closer, a whisper away, his voice low and challenging, "You wanna' spar with me?"

A smile rises as she answers him with a note of daring, "Only if you promise not to go easy on me Wolverine."

He begins to circle her slowly, predatory-like, her dark eyes bewitching as they follow his movement.

"Oh, I can promise you that darlin'," he answers with a grin as they each take up a fighting stance.

* * *

She's pinned to the floor beneath his limbs and he hovers dominantly above her, a film of sweat glistening on his forehead. It's been a lengthy and tactically challenging tussle with the Wolverine and for a moment, she takes the opportunity to catch her breath.

"You're good," he grins, leaning in so his face is only inches from hers, "For a kid."

"Oh yeah?" she challenges, finding an unexpected burst of energy, sweeping his left arm out from beneath him and using the element of surprise to swiftly lever him over, straddling him so he's now pinned beneath her.

"You're good," she smiles down at him mischievously, "For an old man."

* * *

"That's the first time anyone has volunteered to spar with me," she remarks later as they sip on a refreshing beer, "You're the only one at ease with my cursed skin."

He considers Rogue's words but remains silent, studying her as she absently picks at the label on her Molson.

"That's why Bobby split up with me," she mutters quietly, her eyes diverting away from Logan's, "He couldn't touch me, so he found someone else he could."

She takes a mouthful of beer, swallowing down the bitter memories.

"That Ice-prick has no imagination," Logan growls in annoyance, "I can name twenty-three different ways around that skin of yours."

"Twenty-three?" her words spill out in surprise, "Have you been giving it some thought Logan?"

"Maybe," he smiles.

* * *

"After all the hockey games I've sat through with you Logan, the least you can do is come shopping with me."

He grumbles during the entire trip, rolls his eyes when she ends up choosing the first item she tried on, growls at the throng of bodies pushing their way through the crowded stores and mutters under his breath about shopping being 'more painful than having adamantium welded to your bones' and 'duller than hanging out with the geeks'.

What no one knows is that he would shop all day everyday if it meant seeing her smile like she's doing right now.

* * *

"Listen up," yells Logan, "I wanna' see everyone in pairs for defence training!"

The gaggle of students noisily organise themselves as he shouts above the commotion, "Rogue, you're with me!"

"What a surprise," a voice mutters sarcastically from the throng of activity, "The Wolverine picks his favourite again."

"You!" Logan barks to the source of the voice, his finger stabbing down to the floor by his feet, "Here! Now!"

Pyro pales slightly and hush descends as he shuffles his way to the front of class, the other students watching the unfolding scene with intense interest.

Logan's movement is a blur, so swift that no one could have foreseen it, but within a fraction of a second Pyro thuds heavily to the floor in a tangled heap, accompanied with a groan of pain.

The Wolverine's eyes glint dangerously as he scans the room.

"Anyone else wanna' be paired with me?"

There's barely a murmur of response and all eyes fall to the floor, avoiding his glare. All that is, except one chocolate-brown pair that twinkle with humour.

"Rogue it is then," Logan concludes, beckoning her to his side, concealing a grin.

* * *

Scott frowns down from the window, watching Rogue clamber onto the back of Logan's bike, her arms wrapping tightly around his waist as he kicks the Harley into life and roars out of the school gates.

"The amount of time they spend together is unhealthy," Scott comments to Jean and Storm, "And I firmly believe we have a duty to step in before it goes too far."

"I think they're good for each other," Storm comments, met with surprised glances from her two colleagues.

"Well surely you've noticed how cheerful Rogue is since Logan's return?" she offers in explanation, "And I think we can all agree Logan has never been so even-tempered and…"

She hesitates, trying to find the right word.

"Bearable?" Scott interjects.

"_Settled_ was the word I had in mind, but yes," Storm adds with a smile, "Bearable fits too."

"I have to agree with Scott," Jean chips in, "There are a number of reasons why we shouldn't be seen to encourage them; the example it sets to the students being primary."

"Whatever the nature of their relationship," Storm argues, "I'm certain he'd do no wrong by her. Either way, is anyone willing to approach Logan about this? I doubt your interference will go down well with him."

"Maybe," mutters Scott, contemplating both women's point of view.

"I think a subtle word in Rogue's ear would be enough to diffuse this situation," Jean suggests, "I can speak to her in the morning if you are in agreement?"

"Agreed," replies Scott decisively, ignoring Storm's deep sigh.


	2. Chapter 2

"You wanna' watch a movie?" he asks as they climb the steps leading to the institute.

"Only if I can choose," is Rogue's immediate response.

And that's how he'd ended up here, enduring some lame-ass romantic comedy. He'd grumbled incessantly over her choice, but in truth, with his thigh pressed to hers and his arm draped casually around her shoulders, he didn't give a damn what was on the screen.

It's only as the credits roll up that he realises she's drifted off to sleep, her breathing slow and steady, his shoulder a makeshift pillow.

He gazes at her resting peacefully; as fresh, beautiful and desirable as ever, wondering if she has any idea of the hold she has over him.

* * *

"What is this about?" Rogue asks, sensing the unease in the air of the stuffy room Jean has beckoned her into.

"It's about Logan," Jean replies bluntly, crossing one slender, perfectly shaped leg over the other in a gracefully fluid movement.

"Logan?" Rogue asks with a note of alarm in her voice, "Is he okay?"

"More specifically," Jean clarifies, "It's about _you_ and Logan."

A heavy silence falls as Rogue's brow creases in puzzlement, unsure if she's heard correctly and failing to understand why the walls seem to be closing in.

"Rogue, I know you're a little taken with him, and believe me, I can understand that after the events of Liberty Island."

A deep blush fires up from Rogue's chest, flooding her face, and she shifts uncomfortably under the redhead's fixed stare.

"But the way you cling to him, the way you constantly follow him around, well, it's a little..."

She pauses for a moment, as if searching for the right word.

"Desperate," she finishes.

The room is suddenly airless and stifling. Rogue is stunned by the harshness of Jean's tone and that single cruel word _– _'_desperate'._ An embarrassed silence folds around her, suffocating in its intensity.

_"Is that how it is?"_ she asks herself, blinking back confused tears, _"Am I really that naive girl who has misread the entire situation with the Wolverine?"_

Never before has she felt so foolish.

* * *

"Is something troubling you Rogue?"

She shakes her head in response to Xavier's question, pressing down the sorrow that fills her heart.

She hasn't seen Logan for two days, going to painstaking lengths to avoid him. The absence of his company leaves a vacuum, which fills with dark loneliness, gnawing ceaselessly and digesting any hope or happiness she's felt since Logan's return to the institute.

Xavier, adhering to his promise to never read anyone's thoughts without permission, assumes her sadness is due to today's repeatedly unsuccessful attempt to gain control over her mutation.

"You came closer than ever before Rogue. Don't give up. I assure you, discipline is within your grasp."

She's indifferent to his words, struggling to recall the reasons she wanted to gain control of her skin in the first place.

* * *

The manoeuvre is so abrupt and unexpected it takes her breath away.

One instant she's absently making her way along the corridor, weaving amongst the throng of students, the next instant she's pinned to the wall, the Wolverine's dominating form surrounding and entrapping her.

She fights to look anywhere other than into his piercing glare, but he's so close there's hardly a slither of air between them and she has no option but to meet his stare.

"Explain to me Rogue," he growls, his voice laced with dark anger, "Why you've been avoiding me for the past three days?"

She squirms against his powerful frame, but it only serves to make him enfold her tighter still.

"People are staring at us," she mutters.

"I don't give a damn," he bites back. "Answer my question."

His eyes glint dangerously and she's profoundly aware of his body pressing intimately into hers and acutely mindful of the attention this scene is attracting.

"Can we talk about this in private?" she pleads quietly.

"Fine," he retorts after a moment's consideration, loosening his grip on her, "Tonight. Let's get away from this damn place for a few hours."

With that he strolls away, leaving Rogue staring after him, wondering what just happened and how, within a matter of seconds, she's gone from avoiding Logan completely to the two of them going out together this evening.

* * *

Jubilee's piercing shrill fills the corridor, "You and Wolvie have a date tonight!"

"How the hell do you know that?" Rogue asks, hastily ushering Jubilee into her room and away from the smirking glances.

"It's the talk of the school Roguey. And I can't believe you weren't going to tell _me_, your best friend."

"It's not a date Jubes," Rogue insists, "We just need some privacy so we can talk."

"Talk? Yeah, whatever. Anyway, what are you planning on wearing?"

"Wearing?" Rogue asks in puzzlement, glancing down at her outfit; jeans, heeled boots and a hugging green t-shirt, "This," she states simply.

With a deep sigh Jubilee links her friend's arm, pulling her along the corridor and into her own room, flinging open the wardrobe doors.

"What's with all the yellow?" Rogue asks, scanning the array of clothes.

"Try these on," Jubilee answers hastily, throwing random items onto the bed.

Rogue humours her friend for a short time, holding up various skirts and tops, some which would make a stripper blush.

"Jubilee," Rogue says evenly, patiently, as more clothes are thrown her way, "I'm comfortable in what I'm wearing and tonight is _not_ a date."

_"So why is my heart racing and butterflies dancing in my stomach?" _she asks herself.

* * *

"You gonna' tell me what the last three days have been about?" Logan asks, placing a bottle of Molson in front of each of them, unable to hide the irritation in this voice.

She's hardly aware of the din of the bar and the faceless bodies moving around them as she takes a long swig of icy beer. Embarrassment creeps over her as she considers how to word her explanation, swallowing hard and trying to freeze her face so her expression won't give away her emotions.

"Jean said I should stop hanging around you," she states frankly, "She said I seemed...desperate." She throws out the last word with great discomfort, unable to meet Logan's eyes.

"And you listened to her?" He slams his bottle down in furious astonishment, "You believed that?"

Her eyes lift hesitantly to meet his but instantly drop to the floor again at the sight of his glowing outrage.

"And your reaction to her theory - which is wrong by the way - is to avoid me? Jesus Christ Marie, I thought you'd grown up."

His words come out more roughly than he intended and hit a deep nerve within Rogue, causing stinging tears to well up in her eyes. She responds with equal fury:

"Do you have any idea how painful is was to hear Jean say that Logan? Do you have any idea how confused I am?"

"Confused?" he cuts in, unable to bite back his flaring temper, "You think you're the only one confused right now? You don't think I fight my feelings every goddamn day? You don't think I'm tormented by temptation while I try and work out what's right and wrong here?"

He breathes deeply, stemming any further words, knocking back the rest of his beer in one long gulp. A heavy silence falls and they shift awkwardly, uncertain how to deal with the uncomfortable atmosphere that seems to stretch on endlessly.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a lousy date?" Rogue bursts out, causing an infectious grin to rise on Logan's lips, instantly diffusing the tension.

* * *

"The next time you want to dish out your unwanted and misguided advice," Logan growls, marching into Jean's office and slamming the door behind him with a loud crack, "Don't!"

Jean looks startled for a brief moment but quickly composes herself, strolling slowly towards Logan with a sway of her hips and a playful smile on her lips.

"And save the pathetic seduction routine Jean. It's lame and it ain't gonna' work."

Her smile falters, but she swiftly reminds herself that she can have the man standing before her anytime she wants, she just has to snap her fingers. A bit of flirting will resolve this…

"I can't remember a time," she purrs, stepping closer still, "When you could resist my so-called 'seduction routine'."

"Yeah?" he states with a look of distaste, "Well try it now. You'll find the novelty of winding Scott up has worn off."

Her face darkens, the smile slips away and beneath the thick layer of make-up Logan sees a flush of embarrassment.

"Stay away from Rogue," he commands menacingly, "And stay the hell out of our business."

He strides out with an aggressive slam of the door to seal his words.

"_Now where's my girl?"_ he thinks to himself, unable to help the smile that rises on his lips as her image forms in his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

"Roguey!" Jubilee yells excitedly down the corridor, "I want to know all about your date! Leave nothing out!"

Rogue sighs, knowing there's no avoiding her friend's interrogation, "I've told you Jubes, it wasn't a date."

"Yeah, right," she replies sarcastically, falling into step with her friend and linking her arm as they stroll towards the DR room.

"So?" Jubilee presses, "You gonna' fill me in on the juicy details?"

"There are no juicy details," Rogue states flatly, glancing to see the totally unconvinced look on Jubilee's face.

"Honestly Jubes," she says with sincerity, "We drank a few beers and talked. Well, we argued, if you really wanna' know. But that's all."

"What?" Jubilee asks in disbelief, "None of the good stuff? No touchy-feely?"

Rogue shakes her head.

"Damn girl, not even a kiss?"

"Nope," Rogue answers with a casual shrug of her shoulders.

"Jeez, when is that big hairy man gonna' make his move?"

* * *

He can barely sleep.

He yearns for her, dreams of her, she haunts his thoughts continuously.

He twists and turns, the sheets tangling around him. The night is sticky and close; the room feverishly muggy with longing, and it's getting hotter, explosively so.

His coping mechanism to this nightly ritual is a steadfast denial; a brutal _"No!"_ that he repeats to the Wolverine who paces his mind and strains at his leash.

But desire is growing like an irresistible force within him, becoming harder to refuse as he struggles to recall why he denied himself in the first place.

* * *

He finds her on the back porch, watching the shadows lengthen as dusk steadily creeps in. Without a word he sits by her side, breathing in the melancholy air. He can sense her tears, close to the surface, but says nothing. He has unlimited patience when it comes to Rogue and he'd stay out here all evening, forever if needed, until she's ready to talk.

"I've gained control of my mutation," she eventually mumbles, her gaze remaining outward towards the sprawling grounds of the institute.

His reaction is one of stunned amazement, unable to take his unblinking eyes off her, choking a little on the cigar smoke that catches in his throat.

"How?" he manages.

"I've been training with the Professor for months."

Quietness settles for a short time and her fingers play nervously with the tags around her neck.

"It finally clicked into place this afternoon," she continues in a subdued tone, "I can switch my skin on and off in an instant..." her voice trails into silence, which hangs between them for several long seconds.

"That's good news, right?" he asks haltingly, unable to work out her despondent tone.

Her eyes sweep up to his, revealing a glistening film of tears, "I'm afraid Logan. Afraid I'll lose that control, afraid I'll hurt someone, or worse. I daren't even take these off," she wiggles her fingers to indicate her gloves.

He regards her solemnly through a haze of smoke before swinging an arm around her, pulling her into his side.

"It'll take some getting used to darlin'," he states simply, "You just need to take it one day at a time."

She considers his words as they remain in the dusky silence, her head resting on his shoulder.

Behind them the windows of the school look on like suspicious eyes.

* * *

"No gloves?"

It's more of a statement than a question as Logan approaches her.

She stares down at her bare hands, "It's taken me a week to remove those damn things," her eyes remain downwards, "Ridiculous, huh?"

"Hey," he says soothingly, "Don't be so hard on yourself. Like I said, one day at a time."

She squints up into the sunshine to look at him.

"You want some time alone?" he asks, knowing she only ever comes to this secluded bench to escape the throng of the school's activity.

"Nope," she answers, patting the space next to her, indicating for him to join her.

As he settles close by she feels lighter at heart than she has done for days, soaking in the warm sunny rays and smiling to herself.

She's not sure how much time passes before he reaches for her hand, gently folding his fingers around hers, skin-on-skin.

The significance of the gesture is not missed by either of them and they remain like that for an eternity, silent and thoughtful, hand-in-hand.

* * *

"Christ Jubilee, you're supposed to be Rogue's friend, " Logan frowns at the sight of the girls, "How could you let her get into this state?"

Rogue giggles, swaying on her feet, her blurry eyes struggling to focus on the scowling Wolverine in front of her.

"Don't blame me Wolvie," Jubilee retorts, "Rogue's a big girl and she can drink as much as she wants."

"Logan," Rogue slurs through a smirk, taking an unsteady step towards him, "Take me to bed."

"I think you'd better do as the lady asks," Jubilee says with a mischievous grin, skipping off tipsily and leaving them alone in the hallway.

With a roll of his eyes Logan grips Rogue's elbow, guiding her along the corridor. She staggers clumsily beside him, struggling to keep up with his pace and tripping over herself in complete alcohol-induced lack of coordination.

"Make love to me Logan."

Her drunken words are followed by a giggle, then a hiccup.

"Not a good idea," he states without breaking his stride.

"Give me one reason why not," she demands, holding up a single finger and zigzagging it in his face as they stop at her bedroom door.

"Only One? Okay. You're drunk."

"Ha!" she prods him in the chest, "Don't tell me you've never slept with a drunk woman?"

"No comment," he mutters, opening the bedroom door and firmly guiding her in.

"What if I were sober?" she asks with a smile, "Would you sleep with me then?"

"No comment," he repeats.

"I can be sober," she claims with certainty, shrugging away from his grip, "See?"

She attempts a twirl in the centre of the room, immediately loosing her balance and crumbling into a heap on the floor, her hair tumbling messily around her shoulders. Logan suppresses a grin, sweeping her up with ease and placing her on the bed.

"I'm still waiting for a good reason Logan," she mumbles as he tucks the duvet around her and drunken sleep starts to take over.

"Marie, we ain't sleeping together and that's final."

_"Not tonight, anyway,"_ he thinks to himself with a smile as he closes the door softly and heads to his own room.

* * *

"Do I strike you as the kinda' guy who would attend your pansy-ass ball Scooter?"

"It's for the students Logan," replies Scott, "The least you can do is make an appearance."

"Yeah? Well I've got better things to do with my time."

Their debate is interrupted by the giggles of Rogue and Jubilee as they spill into the kitchen, laden with shopping bags.

"What do you think Logan?" asks Rogue, pulling out a newly purchased dress, holding up the short strappy garment against herself.

She spins around giddily, the dark emerald material clinging and shimmering with her movement.

"It's for the student's ball," she says with a smile in answer to Logan's questioning eyebrow.

"Come on Roguey," Jubilee gathers up the bags and pulls her friend from the room, "I'll show you the heels I had in mind, they'll match that dress perfectly."

Logan's appreciative stare follows Rogue out of the room until the echoes of her giggles melt into silence.

"So," he turns back to Scott, "What time does this pansy-ass party start?"

* * *

"Oh my god Roguey," Jubilee squeals excitedly, "Have you ever seen anything as edible as that?"

Rogue can only faintly hear her friend over the din of the music blasting out, the party fully underway, their fellow students dancing, laughing and chatting all around them.

She follows Jubilee's gaze and the sight before her renders her speechless.

Strolling towards them is Logan, his wild unruly hair in complete contrast to the crisp, dark, perfectly fitted suit he wears, his starch white shirt open casually at the collar. He blends in admirably with all the other suited males in the room, yet he stands out like no other.

_"Keep your composure,"_ Rogue tells herself, _"Try not to drool."_

Despite her silent words, she soaks in the delectable sight of the Wolverine with wanton hunger in her eyes, and he returns her gaze with dark, glinting and equally intense desire.

* * *

He doesn't leave her side during the entire evening and later, they tuck themselves away in the darkest corner of the dance floor, arms looped around each other, bodies pressed close, barely swaying.

Neither of them could name the song that plays in the background; neither of them pays it any attention.

"Marie," his lips brush her ear, his voice a whispered growl, "Are you gonna' let me kiss you tonight?"

She looks up into his eyes through dark lashes.

"Maybe," she answers with a teasing smile, struggling to keep the tremor out of her voice.

Right there in the shadowy corner, before the unknown song comes to an end, he kisses her; slowly, slowly, achingly slowly, relishing the delicious moment...


	4. Chapter 4

I'm sorry this chapter is a little shorter than usual. I can only describe this past week as 'gruelling' (life is meant to test us, right?) and although I've had hardly any spare time, I wanted to write a little something to cheer myself up. And what better than some juicy Rogan naughtiness? Yay!

* * *

_"Did it really happen?"_ she asks herself in silent wonder, staring at her own reflection in the mirror as her fingers lightly brush her lips, _"Or did I dream it?"_

The bedroom door explodes open with such force it crashes into the wall, leaving a visible dent and causing crumbles of plaster to fall to the floor.

"Oh my god Roguey!" Jubilee squeals from the doorway in a pitch human and mutant ears alike would struggle to detect, "He kissed you! Wolvie kissed you!"

_"I guess it did happen,"_ she smiles to herself.

* * *

"Your relationship with Rogue," Xavier's words are carefully pronounced, "Is wholly inappropriate."

The Professor sits with his elbows on his desk and his fingers in a steeple; Jean stands by his side displaying a stony glare.

"I don't give a damn what you think," Logan bites back, his eyes swiveling dangerously from Xavier to Jean.

"You are a teacher in this school and Rogue is a student," Xavier continues on regardless, "You have to understand, I can't be seen to condone your behaviour."

"Then don't. Just stay out of our business."

"It becomes my business, Logan, when you openly display your affections in the astonishing manner you did last night."

"I don't have to listen to this," the Wolverine snarls, turning to leave.

"Logan!" Xavier calls after him, causing him to stop in the doorway, his back remaining to the Professor in steadfast defiance, "I'd prefer you remain part of the X-team, but if this _situation_ with Rogue goes any further, I will have no choice but to dismiss you from this institute."

* * *

He knows he's crossed _that_ line, taken things too far, and his actions have done nothing to numb his raging lust as the memories play over and over: The sweet taste of her, the warmth of those plump lips as they open for him, her fervent response as his tongue teases in…

"To hell with it," he mutters into the suffocating heat of the room, untangling himself from the damp sheets and throwing on a pair of sweatpants, heading to the deserted gym to discharge some pent-up energy.

* * *

"Want a sparring partner?"

How Rogue managed to sneak up on him he will never know, but he instantly holds the punch bag still, turning to face her, watching her eyes following a ribbon of sweat that trickles down his bare chest and soaks into the band of his sweatpants.

_"You're on dangerous ground here bub,"_ he cautions himself silently.

"Sure," he answers through ragged breaths, disregarding his own warning.

She barely puts up a fight and it takes only seconds to pin her to the wall, pressing into her intimately, causing her breath to hitch. A moment later, and without conscious thought, he's kissing her again, only this time its frenzied and desperate, bruising in its roughness.

"I'm losing my control with you," he whispers hoarsely, abruptly breaking the kiss.

"So lose it," she responds simply, holding his darkened gaze.

He regards her solemnly for a moment.

"Are you sure about that Marie?" his eyes blaze with intimidating intensity, "Because if we do this, if I make you mine, you are mine for keeps."

Her reply comes without hesitation, spoken through swollen lips still heated from his kiss, "I'm already yours Logan. I always have been."

At that precise moment any capacity for rational thought vanishes and he lets the Wolverine take charge, grasping her hand and leading her out without another word.

* * *

Not a creature stirs as the Wolverine guides her through the expansive grounds of the school, past the perfectly manicured lawns and neatly clipped hedges, into the untamed terrain with its tangle of overgrown flora and canopy so dense it blocks out the moonlight.

He turns to face her in the trembling dark and a warm breeze filters through the trees, causing her cotton clothing to flatten against her so he can clearly see the curves of her body, almost as if she was naked.

"I want you," he growls, pulling her into him, his eyes flashing with hot fire.

Blood pounds in her head as she kisses him, telling him without words that he can take whatever he wants.

* * *

The grass is a carpet of dewy velvet beneath them and the humid night air brushes their bare skin.

She quivers at his intimate touch; so much exposure, so unaccustomed, so inexperienced.

_"Slowly, slowly,"_ he silently reminds himself, yet again.

Convulsing with the strain of self-control he complies with his own instruction.

Initially.

But his restraint begins to dissolve as he drives himself inside her. Tight, so deliciously tight, stretching her, filling her entirely. A sharp hiss of pain escapes her lips, but as he begins to move - slowly, slowly - her trembling gasps turn into whimpers of pleasure, her body responding and reacting instinctively to his steadily increasing thrusts.

Watched from above by the bright stars glinting down, their naked bodies writhe in synchrony, the thick canopy muffling his groans of long-denied fulfillment.

Stifling heat pulsates in the air surrounding them, the tension stretches to breaking point and with an animalistic roar that vibrates through the mass of trees, his forbidden passion is released.

She is marked as his forever.


	5. Chapter 5

"You've got grass-marks all over your skin darlin'."

His voice stirs her from light sleep and her eyes flicker open to see Logan propped up on one elbow, grinning down at her.

She blushes sweetly, reaching for the bed sheets to cover her nakedness, wondering if she left her unabashed immodesty outside, along with her innocence.

"I can't keep my hands off you baby," he growls into her ear, a low purr, causing her to shudder with pleasure.

She aches from the number of times he has already taken her during this feverish night, and yet the soreness melts into a different sort of ache, one of wanton, as he kisses her lovingly, touching her, making her hot, making her lose herself to him again...

* * *

"Logan," she giggles, swiping at him teasingly as he gathers her close, locking her beneath him to prevent her from escape, "We have to leave this room, this bed, at some point."

"Why?" he asks with a playful grin, bearing his weight down into her, "I've got everything I need right here."

"You've got classes to teach," she replies in weak protest, "Your DR training starts in ten minutes…"

There's something about the way his grin slips away that causes her to stop mid-sentence, creating an awkward silence. There's a flicker of a shadow across his features _- a hidden truth? -_ and she searches his dark eyes for the meaning. He holds her gaze intensely, saying nothing, yet it surprises Logan how well she reads his expression.

"You're leaving?"

Her question is a whisper, dissolving into the rapidly cooling air between them, and his lack of response confirms her prediction.

"You're leaving because of what's just happened between you and me," she continues with certainty, her volume rising with every word, "You've been warned against this_, _against _us_, haven't you?"

It's another question that goes unanswered, but she sees the facts burning in his eyes and it causes heart-rending confliction to ripple through her; marked determination to never let him go, yet reluctant acceptance that the Wolverine has to be given his freedom to roam.

His eyes darken to an inky black, a minor alternation, yet it somehow increases his dominance to a profoundly intimidating level.

"You coming with me Marie?"

His words are more of a command than a question, although this has no bearing on her instant response.

"I'll go pack."

Only then does he release her, letting her clamber off the bed.

* * *

Rogue watches her friend unawares from the doorway; sprawled out on her tussled bed, absorbed in one of those comic books she loves so much.

"Jubilee, do you have a minute?" she asks, working hard to keep her voice bright.

"I know it's something serious when you use my full name Roguey," Jubilee answers, twisting to face her friend as she pops an enormous yellow bubble of gum, "Okay, so let me guess, you've drained someone accidentally and you need my help to dispose of the body?"

Rogue stares at her friend blankly as she continues with a glint of amusement in her eyes, "Was it Kitty? Jean? No? Wishful thinking huh?"

"Jubilee," Rogue interrupts with exasperation, "Please, just listen."

Jubilee's smile swiftly vanishes at her friend's unusually serious tone and she throws aside the comic to indicate her unwavering attention.

"I'm leaving today," Rogue announces, her eyes dropping to the floor as she adds, "With Logan."

Jubilee stares at her best friend in silent astonishment, slowly absorbing Rogue's revelation.

"What?" she demands, padding over to her friend's side.

"We have no choice," Rogue adds quietly, "We won't be accepted here together."

"Oh Roguey, the geeks will come round to the idea eventually," Jubilee says with certainty, "I'll speak to the Professor, tell him what's what..."

Her words stop at Rogue's firm shake of her head.

"Can't you and Wolvie just make sweet love in secret? I won't tell a soul, I promise," she adds with a wink.

"I doubt we'll get away with that Jubes, given we live with some of the most powerful telepaths."

"Good point," she concurs with a nod, swinging a comforting arm around her friend's shoulders and quietly asking, "So how long will you be gone?"

"I don't know," Rogue's words cause the tears she's been holding back to spill over, "Maybe forever."

"Oh no," whispers Jubilee, realising the finality of her friends decision as they embrace tearfully, a deep sense of impending loss for one another already creeping in.

* * *

"Ready?" Logan asks as she glances around her empty bedroom.

Rogue nods and he regards her for a moment, silently asking himself if he's being selfish by taking her away from the one place she's ever felt a sense of belonging. Yet he's unable to contemplate the alternative option; the impatiently pacing Wolverine in his head won't allow it.

"You sure about this?" he asks for the third time in as many minutes.

"Yes," she answers with conviction.

He sweeps up her bag and grasps her hand, leading her along the corridor, eager to hit the road before his conscience takes over. They're at the bottom of the stairs when he senses Xavier and Jean marching towards them and he curses to himself, knowing their exit is about to be obstructed.

"Come to wave us off?" Logan asks sarcastically as they approach, "Wish us well on our way?"

"Logan..."

"Save it Xavier," Logan cuts in, "You've already made your opinion clear."

"Maybe I was a little hasty..." he responds cautiously.

"Professor, this situation is unacceptable," Jean's frigid glare falls to Logan's hand wrapped firmly around Rogue's, "We could never allow this relationship to continue..."

"_Allow_?" Logan fires at Jean aggressively, "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Let's just go," Rogue whispers gently, tugging at his hand, anxious to avoid a scene.

"On second thoughts Jean, don't answer that," Logan's aggression has diminished somewhat due to Rogue's softening words, "Because the truth is, I don't give a fuck."

Jean's face is a thickly painted picture of indignation, one which both Logan and Rogue turn their backs on.

"Come on darlin'," he squeezes his girl's hand tightly as they walk away, "We were never meant for this place."

* * *

"Where do you wanna' go Marie?" Logan asks as they cruise along the seemingly endless road, the windows of the old Ford Mustang open fully to allow a fresh breeze to ripple through, "We can go anywhere you want."

She doesn't answer; instead she listens to a gloomy song emitting from the softly fizzing radio.

"We could head to the Great Lakes?" he suggests, twisting the radio dial, trying to find a more cheerful tune, "Didn't you say you always wanted to go there?"

"How about Mississippi?" she says quietly, glancing down at her bare hands.

He offers her a sweeping sideway glance, surprised by this suggestion.

"That's one hell of a drive darlin'," he comments.

They silently watch the road unroll before them and he notices her fingers playing with the tags around her neck. He's come to learn it's a habit that gives away her apprehension.

"If we go to Mississippi," she eventually adds, her voice becoming quieter with every word until it's barely audible, "We could visit Caldecott, maybe see my parents."

"Didn't they kick you out?" Logan asks with frank bluntness, anger coating his words at the image of Rogue so young and vulnerable, alone on the streets...

"They were struggling to accept my mutation," her voice remains a whisper, "So I left. It was my choice. But maybe now that I can control my power, they'll be a little more… supportive?"

"They don't deserve you in their lives," Logan growls roughly.

"I miss them," she mutters, swallowing hard and blinking back tears.

He instantly regrets his abruptness, reaching across to squeeze her hand - _sorry darlin'_ - and assures her that yes, of course they can visit her parents, if that's what she wants.

* * *

"Take the next left Logan."

"Left? You sure?" He's convinced he recognises these landmarks from twenty minutes ago…

Following Rogue's instructions, and going against his instinct, he veers sharply around the corner, at the same time peering across to examine the map laid out on Rogue's lap.

"Are you reading that upside-down Marie?"

She registers his words, studies the map for a moment and then offers a lame, "Oops."

"Jesus Christ," he snaps, "No wonder we're driving around in circles!"

He mutters a string of curses under his breath, running a tired hand through his unruly hair, his patience threadbare after long days of driving and lust-filled nights of little sleep.

Rogue struggles to stifle a giggle, only serving to flare his temper.

"What's so damn funny?" he demands, a deep frown furrowing into his brow.

"I'm just wondering what my parents will think of you," she says with an innocent smile.

He raises a questioning eyebrow in her direction.

"They've always wanted me to find a mild-mannered and sweet-natured young man, you know, the sensible, settling-down type."

Her words cause him to laugh, instantly dispelling his tension.

"Darlin', you need to brace yourself," he grins, "Because I'm your parent's worst goddamn nightmare."


	6. Chapter 6

The distraction is caused by some perspiring over-bearing trucker leering at his girl. He senses him looming over her, the stench of sweat filling his lungs, and Logan turns to see chunky lecherous fingers reaching out to grope her.

Rogue swipes the offending hand away with a hissed threat – "_I wouldn't try it, that's my man in there," _– and nods towards the cage. The trucker glances up to see the Wolverine's livid eyes burning into his, a vicious snarl directed towards him, and he swiftly backs off and disappears into the raucous crowd.

The entire incident takes less than three seconds, but the diversion of Logan's attention is all his hefty, thuggish opponent needs to deliver an almighty blow that floors the Wolverine, the assault immediately followed by a string of brutally violent kicks and punches to his head.

Rogue fades from his vision as he's swallowed by pain-filled dizzying blackness, yet he hears her cries, his name strangled with anguish at the rare sight of him left defenceless and being savagely attacked.

In contrast, the Wolverine is at ease with this turn of events, knowing his healing power will soon take control and recognising that this display of weakness will encourage more challengers into the ring; which equates to more money in his pocket.

Regardless of this, he can already foresee the conversation this evening:

"_I don't want you fighting anymore Logan."_

"_These motel rooms don't pay for themselves darlin'." _

Besides, there's no denying the Wolverine gains a thrill from the brutality of cage fighting.

The wooziness begins to diminish and he staggers to his feet, catching Marie's eye to offer her a wink - _I'm okay baby _– before turning to his attacker with a sadistic and murderous grin...

* * *

"Do you believe in love at first sight Logan?"

Her question is murmured sleepily and comes off the back of another lame-ass movie he's had to endure in the confines of their motel room; some sappy romantic comedy. He can never understand why Rogue loves those absurdly predictable films so much.

"No," he answers bluntly, glancing down at her curled into his side, her eyes closed, waves of her rich brown hair sprawled across his bare chest, "You'll only find that sort of crap in those movies."

He sips his beer and watches a hockey game with the volume muted, listening to her steady breathing as she gradually slips into peaceful sleep.

"There's definitely no such thing as love at first sight," he whispers, smiling as he gazes at his girl in deep slumber, "I'd say it took at least two hours before I knew how I felt about you."

* * *

Rogue stares at the familiar deep blue curtains, which are drawn back with matching ties to allow the natural light to flood in. The same portly vase stands proudly on the windowsill; its thin hairline crack not visible from the car where she sits. The photo frame - the one that held her first school portrait – is no longer in its usual location by the vase, but otherwise, from the outside at least, little has changed.

It's eerie, resembling frozen time, as if trying to convince Rogue that she's sixteen again and the last few years of her life never took place at all.

The car engine shudders to a standstill and Logan twists to face Rogue, watching her intently as her fingers play nervously with the tags.

"You okay darlin'?"

Her saucer-like eyes sweep up to his and within them he can read her apprehension.

"I just want them to accept me," she says, her eyes dropping to her bare hands.

He wishes more than anything that he could offer her that guarantee.

A twitch in the curtain catches their attention and they see a flash of her mother's dark hair as she peeks out, no doubt wondering who has come to visit on this unremarkable and dreary September afternoon.

"Let's do this," mutters Rogue with a sigh as she slowly clambers out of the car, closely followed by Logan.

As she walks up the pathway a sense of foreboding intensifies with every step. She reaches for Logan's hand without conscious thought and he squeezes it in reassurance as she raps on the door.

* * *

No hugs are offered to their daughter, no smiles of welcome. If anything, there's an air of unease; a wariness as they glance at Rogue's exposed hands.

Her parent's hurtful lack of affection gnaws at Logan as he and Rogue silently follow them down the darkened hallway and into the front room, but he makes a vow to himself; _"Hold your tongue and keep your temper in check, for Marie's sake." _

"Your hair is...um...different," her mother finally comments into the taut air as they each take a seat.

"Mom," Rogue starts determinedly, managing a small hopeful smile, "I've come to tell you, to _show_ you, I have gained control over my mutation."

She reaches for her mother who instantly flinches away, a jerked movement so sharp it could have been involuntary.

Dark anger flickers in Logan's eyes.

"You don't understand mom," Rogue's voice is strained, desperate, "I can switch my skin off, I won't hurt you..."

She reaches out again, yet her mother's immediate and deliberate reaction is to twist away, as if in loathing, causing tears to sting Rogue's eyes and Logan's thin slither of patience to evaporate completely.

"How can you be so heartless?" he growls, "This is your daughter, goddamnit!"

And that's his vow broken after only seconds, yet he silently congratulates himself for holding back as long as he did.

"And who the hell are you?" her father demands, having eye-balled Logan coldly from the moment they walked through the door.

"This is Logan," Rogue answers, her eyes shining with adoration at the mention of his name, a subtle indication of their relationship that is not missed by her parents.

"You're too old for a girl of Marie's age," her father states frankly, raising the tension another notch.

_"You have no idea,"_ Logan thinks to himself as splintered memories of distant wars flash through his mind.

"Are you one of _them_? A mutant?" her father's words are coated in a layer of disgust.

For a split second Logan considers revealing the claws to demonstrate exactly what kind of mutant they are dealing with here, but he opts against it, instead glowering wordlessly at him.

Her father assumes the answer and turns to Rogue, his face grimly set, "Is this the sort you hang out with these days?"

"Why do you give a damn?" Logan snaps, "You pushed Marie out of the door when she was barely sixteen."

"It was her own choosing," her father responds indignantly, "She ran away."

"Did you try to stop her?" Logan demands, "Did you ever look for her? Do you have any idea what hell she's been through?"

"I won't tolerate being spoken to in this manner under my own roof," her father bellows, rising to his feet incensed, "Especially by a mutant!"

"And I won't tolerate the way you treat Marie!" Logan roars, standing to meet her father eye-to-eye, inadvertently towering over him.

"Stop this!" Rogue yells, looking from Logan to her father then back to Logan again, "Please."

A suffocating silence descends as the two men slowly retake their seats, glaring bitterly at one another.

"Cup of tea anyone?" her mother asks with strained cheeriness, hastily standing to prepare the beverage, despite the lack of any response.

* * *

The next five minutes seem like hours to Rogue; her father prickling on one side and Logan seething on the other, the tension stretched to shattering point.

Her mother breezes back into the room with a bright smile and a tray of refreshments, dutifully pouring tea for everyone and offering around a plate of biscuits that are politely refused.

"Marie," her mother starts, carefully, hesitantly, looking at her over the rim of her teacup, "We heard on the news, there's a cure for your condition..."

"What _condition_?" Logan cuts in, unable to bite back his irritation at her choice of words.

Rogue gives him a pleading look – _let me handle this Logan_ – and his jaw clenches as he grits his teeth and silently repeats his vow to hold his temper.

"Mom, why would I need a cure?" Rogue asks patiently, "My mutation is a fundamental part of me and I've told you, it's under control."

"Won't you just consider it sweetheart?" she reaches out cautiously and strokes her daughter's hair, "Then we could put this needless mutation situation behind us."

Rogue's shoulders drop dejectedly and there is no mistaking the defeat glistening in her eyes.

"I thought things might have changed mom," she swallows thickly, feeling the weight of her tears behind her eyes, yet refusing to cry, "I was hoping you'd have come to accept me as I am. But I was wrong."

* * *

Rogue waits until they have driven several streets from her parent's house before she breaks down, sobbing uncontrollably, her tears stinging with painful rejection.

Without hesitation Logan pulls over, turns off the engine and enfolds her in his arms, holding her close to impart all the comfort he can; patiently soothing, whispering gentle undecipherable murmurs into her ear.

"_No hurry,"_ he thinks, keeping her locked to him, _"Just sooth my girl and ease her pain, no matter how long it takes."_

"I'm so sorry Logan," she whispers as her tears eventually begin to subside.

He frowns with confusion, "I can't think of a single reason why you'd have to be sorry Marie."

"I'm sorry I made you drive all this way for nothing," she explains.

"Hey," he hooks a finger under her chin to tilt her eyes up to his, "I love being on the road with you; just the two of us without the interfering geeks and their kinky leather suits."

She smiles at his words and wipes away the last of the tears with the back of her hand, loosening herself from his embrace.

"So what do you wanna' do now darlin'?"

She takes a deep breath and considers his question for a moment, smiling at him as the decision forms in her mind.

"Let's get drunk Logan. And by that, I mean let's get absolutely obliterated."

"You wanna' get drunk baby?" he grins, "Why the hell not?"


	7. Chapter 7

Rogue groans into her pillow, one question emerging fuzzily into her throbbing head, one question she has asked herself numerous times in the past: _Why the hell did I drink so much last night?_

Her eyelids open by the narrowest slither but the piercing light causes her to wince and fling the covers over her head in an over-dramatic gesture, and not before she sees Logan grinning across to her, his face alive with amusement.

"I'm never drinking again," she whines.

"Yeah, I've heard that before darlin'," he laughs.

"It's okay for you," she mumbles from beneath the duvet, "You never suffer from hangovers."

"True," he agrees, wriggling down to join her under the covers, pulling the duvet up over his head so they're wrapped together in a dark den of warmth, "But I know a great cure..."

* * *

"I can't offer you the stability you deserve Marie."

Logan's words surge out like they've been stuck in his throat for weeks and she turns to him, trying to understand where this unexpected and random remark has come from.

"This is all I know," he waves his hand loosely to indicating the car and the open road unrolling before them, "I can't give you the normal life you had at Xavier's."

"I wouldn't describe life at the institute as _normal_," Rogue responds with a shrug.

He offers her a brief sideways glance as they cruise along, considering her words for a moment, the only sound being the steady rustle of rain against the windscreen, which has been falling for over an hour now.

He shifts uncomfortably, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead as he speaks.

"Maybe I could set up a home for us," he suggests, "See how it works out?"

She shakes her head with a giggle and he turns to her with a look of confusion, unable to understanding what she finds so amusing.

"I never asked for the little house with the white picket fence Logan," she states simply, reaching across to squeeze his hand, "What we have here is good enough for me."

"Are you sure darlin'?"

"Logan, you're all I want. As long as we're together, I don't care how we live."

Her words offer some comfort, yet he can never shake the guilt that consistently gnaws; the blame he inflicts upon himself for stealing her away from a more secure existence.

* * *

"What the hell is that racket?" Logan grumbles with irritation, referring to a beeping noise that suddenly pierces the otherwise tranquil room. It seems to be coming from the shadowy corner, where his leather jacket is slung casually over a chair.

He reluctantly lets Marie out of his grasp and she clambers out of bed, padding across the floor towards the incessant noise. Propping himself up on the pillows he laces his hands behind his head, his dark eyes following her and admiring her semi-naked form from afar as she fumbles through his jacket, eventually locating the source; a sleek, black mobile phone with an clearly identifiable 'X' in its design.

"I think it's for you," Rogue says with a smile, throwing it across the room.

"How did this get into my jacket?" he mutters, catching it and staring down to the persistently ringing phone as if it's the most offensive object he's ever had the misfortune of coming across.

Flipping it open he offers a gruff, "Who the hell is this?"

"Logan," Xavier's voice is instantly recognisable, calm and even, "I'll get straight to the point. The school is under imminent threat. We need your help."

There's a long pause as Logan contemplates this plea, his eyes fixed on Rogue as she wraps herself in one of his shirts and studies him from across the room.

"If I come back," his voice is hard and level, "I come with Rogue; no questions, no interference."

"Agreed," Xavier answers without hesitation, "The jet is on its way to pick you both up."

* * *

Jubilee's high-pitched squeal hits Rogue's ears long before she bursts into the suite that Xavier has allocated to her and Logan.

"Roguey, your back!" she yells, flinging herself at her best friend as if she hasn't seen her for years, when in fact it's been less than three weeks.

"It's good to see you Jubes," she smiles, grateful Logan is elsewhere, knowing that squeal would have worsened his grim mood.

"So what brings you back?" she asks, releasing Rogue from their tight embrace and stepping back to look at her friend, "Wait, wait, let me guess."

She studies Rogue for a long moment, her hand on her hip and her eyes narrowing as if burrowing into her friend's mind.

"Whoa, I've got it! You're pregnant with Wolvie's child! Oh my god, I am so exited for you…"

"You're way off Jubes, I'm not pregnant," she states with a roll of her eyes, turning away to unzip her threadbare bag.

"Could happen," Jubilee mutters under her breath.

"Jubes, we returned because Xavier asked for Logan's help. Some threat to the school or something."

"So that explains the repeatedly tedious evacuation drills," Jubilee mumbles to herself, her eyes latching back to Rogue's as she asks, "Do you know what that's all about?"

"No, but the Professor is going to brief us this afternoon, once we've had chance to unpack."

Silence settles for a few moments as Rogue places her few belongings here and there in an attempt to make the room a little more homely.

"Rogue," Jubilee says through a hint of a smile as she throws an arm casually around her friend's shoulder, "Don't you think Wolvie would make a great daddy? A little over-protective I admit, but still..."

"Quit it Jubes," Rogue cuts in, ignoring the instant sulky pout that appears on Jubilee's face, "It's not happening."

* * *

The softening light slanting through the windows indicates the late hour of the afternoon. Rogue briefly considers heading to the observation deck of the danger room to see if Logan's still venting his frustrations, but instead she opts for a hot drink, grateful to find the kitchen empty. Having been back at the school for less than four hours, the curious stares and unsubtle whispers from the other students has already become tiresome.

She pours herself a strong coffee and enjoys the rare silence that surrounds her, making the most of the peace and quiet. But the solitary time is short-lived, interrupted by Scott strolling in, a momentary look of surprise crossing his face when he sees her sat there.

"So," he starts absently as he scours the fridge, "You and Wolverine, huh?"

She sips her drink and offers no reply. Eventually he gives up on whatever he was searching for and instead pours himself a coffee, taking a seat beside Rogue and continuing with his thread of conversation, despite her lack of response.

"How's that working out for you?"

Setting her mug down on the table she offers Scott a level stare.

"We're happy," she answers firmly, "_I'm_ happy."

"Yeah, until he does his usual disappearing act. It's only a matter of time Rogue..."

"Is that so?" Logan growls from behind them as he enters the kitchen, "What's up one-eye? You so bored with your own love-life you have to interfere in ours?"

Scott climbs to his feet, undaunted by Logan's presence, "I'm only saying what everyone else is thinking. Our concern is for Rogue."

"I don't need your concern," Rogue cuts in angrily.

"Look Summers," Logan takes an aggressive step closer, "I only came back here to help your sorry ass. I can just as easily leave you pansies to fend for yourselves."

"Suits me," Scott says, closing the gap between them.

"Enough of this," Xavier states firmly as he glides into the kitchen, glaring from Scott to Logan then back to Scott again, "When are you two going to realise you are on the same side?"

The two men glower at one another but exchange no further words.

"Rogue, Logan," Xavier continues, his voice milder now, "Thank you for coming back. Now, if you'll follow me to my office, I'll brief you on the situation."

* * *

"The Intel comes from a reliable source," Xavier begins as he settles behind his desk, "Stryker is planning to attack the school."

"Why?" Logan demands.

"I don't know, although I'd make a guess he's after one of the students; or more specifically, their power."

"All we know is that the threat is imminent," Scott explains, his eyes following Logan pacing up and down the room, "And it's gonna' be a far cry from the safety of any DR simulation."

"Right," Logan mutters, undeterred.

"So," Xavier looks to Logan, then Rogue, "Are you in?"

"Yes," they answer in unison.

Logan instantly turns to Rogue with a deep frown of concern.

"I'm in Logan," she states defiantly before he can protest, "I'm an X-men and I'll do what has to be done to defend this school."

He can see the sparkle of determination in her eyes and he admires her courage, although he can't shake a deep sense of foreboding.

* * *

The attack is brutally vicious and by the early hours of the morning, the grounds of Xavier's institute begins to resemble a battlefield.

Logan thrives, letting the Wolverine take control, the animal inside him hungry for combat and the liberation that brings.

He frequently flashes a glance at Rogue as she battles fearlessly nearby, but there are infinite distractions; noise, chaos, gore and displays of unimaginable power, and he can never pinpoint the exact moment when she vanishes from his side.

He reminds himself that she is a feisty and courageous woman, one who is more than capable of taking care of herself. He has experienced her combat skills first-hand and knows she is fully prepared for this. Yet he scans the grounds in desperation as something – _instinct?_ - tells him she's in trouble.

"Damnit!" he curses as an optic blast grazes the side of his face, an unavoidable consequence of Scott wiping out a potential attacker looming behind Logan.

"Stay focused Wolverine!" Scott shouts above the din.

"Where's Rogue?" he yells back, his voice cold and furious.

Scott only shrugs in response before he's distracted by the battle in hand.

Logan's eyes scan the scene frantically, every sense on high alert. He wonders if anyone else notices the steady retreat of the enemy, the density of attackers subtly thinning. In the distance, high above the disorder, a stream of helicopters departs, indicating their job here is complete.

"Xavier!" he roars, his face grimly set as he brutally maims another assailant who dares to get in his way, "Where's Rogue goddamnit?"

Xavier isn't in sight but he knows the Professor will pick up his thought-stream and it takes only a second for his voice to echo in Logan's mind as he detects Rogue's absence:

_"They've taken her,"_ there's a quaver of defeat in Xavier's voice that he can't quite control, _"I'm so sorry Logan, I had no idea. She was the mutant they wanted."_

The roar that rips from the Wolverine's throat causes silence to descend across the dwindling battlefield. With claws exposed he staggers on his feet, consumed by blind hysteria.

His thoughts are barely coherent; such is the power of his fury and panic:

_Get her back, get her back, unharmed, untouched, she's my girl, my girl, my girl, someone will pay, someone will pay, she's my girl, mine…_

As his tangled thoughts spiral out of control, the only sense he is aware of is rage in his blood and murder in his heart.


	8. Chapter 8

**Department K:** A clandestine fraction of the Canadian Government, suspected of capturing mutants for purposes of experimentation; enhancing their superpowers and turning them into living weapons. One such project rumoured to stem from Department K is the 'Weapon X Project'.

* * *

"Let us help you Logan."

Xavier's voice echoes in the Wolverine's psyche, somewhere in the background beyond the rage that engulfs his mind and spins his senses into a bleak haze of blackness.

His roared response, driven by fury, is spat out through clenched teeth, "Fuck you all!"

"Logan, you must calm down," Xavier's voice is patient yet firm, "I've managed to trace Rogue through Cerebro. With this vital lead we can work together to ensure her safety."

The Wolverine snarls, a pain-filled animalistic sound. Xavier recognises Logan's inability to grasp onto reason right now, but continues regardless: "If we don't work as a team, it'll be impossible to save her."

Some delicate thread of logic contemplates the Professor's words, but the Wolverine is unable to tune into this sanity, the beast within him pulsating with anger, dominating his thoughts and actions.

"The X-men are making their preparations and the jet will leave in ten minutes. If you want to be part of this mission Logan, be ready."

* * *

Rogue blinks into the darkness and fear crawls over her as she senses unfamiliarity all around her. The thinnest strips of light force their way through the edges of an ill-fitted door, penetrating the murky gloom of the airless room.

Her mind fumbles to make sense of her surroundings and panic rises like bile in her throat as broken fragments of memories flash through her mind:

_A needle stabbing into her neck, the effect so frighteningly swift her tongue numbs instantly, muting any means to shout for help. Her body collapses like a dead weight and her senses dull down, the vision of Logan fighting viciously nearby rapidly fading to black..._

Her eyes haven't quite adjusted to the gloom when the door creaks open with a sound reminiscent of a screech, the light flooding in dazzling her. As she attempts to lift her hands to shield her face, she realises with a stab of fear that her wrists are restrained.

The silhouette looms, filling the door, monstrous and dominating. But the voice emitting from the towering form is surprisingly friendly and cheerful.

"Welcome to Department K, Rogue."

* * *

There's a bustle of activity within the jet as the X-men make their preparations; cross referencing coordinates, studying blue prints and hastily discussing plans.

In contrast, Logan closes in on himself, blocking out the noise around him. It's a coping mechanism; an unhealthy one he admits, but other than exposing the claws and gutting everyone in sight, he knows of no other way to deal with the anger and fear weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He registers Scott somewhere in the peripheral of his vision, pacing up and down as he briefs the team; "...hidden near the Canadian border... underground government sector... concealed laboratory levels..."

"Enough talk. Let's go!" Logan spits out, cutting off Cyclops mid-sentence.

"Logan," Scott spins to face him, "Do you have the ability to remain calm during this mission?"

The Wolverine's brooding body language and narrowed eyes communicate a silent yet clear message: _Do I look calm, you fucking one-eyed little prick?_

"You must maintain some sort of control," Scott stresses, "It's imperative to Rogue's life."

"And it's imperative to _your_ life that this so-called mission is a success, Summers," Logan growls back through gritted teeth.

Scott turns away without responding; once again silently questioning why Xavier insisted on Logan's involvement in this operation, given his obvious instability right now.

"Okay Storm," he calls out in command, opting to brief the team individually once they're in the air, "Take her up."

* * *

Jean approaches Logan carefully, crouching by his side, meeting him at eye level with a look of undisguised and somewhat patronising pity.

"I'm sorry Logan," she whispers softly.

Logan's eyes remain down, his focus on the light rumble of the Blackbird's engine as he attempts to contain his emotions.

"I know you've always felt protective of Rogue," she continues with a deep sigh, her hand coming to rest on his knee, "You clearly care about her."

Logan's eyes sweep up to meet hers, blazing with the same dark anger that surges through his blood, his response purposefully cutting: "You have no idea how I feel about her."

"We all care about Rogue," Jean tries again, her voice irritatingly smooth, "Just as much as you do."

His muscles tense at her words. She will never understand that his feelings are beyond 'caring' and more powerful than 'protector'. Rogue is his girl, his mate, but he has no patience to explain this to the likes of Jean.

"I have no doubt you'll always be friends," she persists, lowering her voice to a whisper as she adds, "Even when this _relationship situation_ between the two of you fizzles out..."

"Jean," He grips her wrist roughly, unconscious of his physical action, his voice gritty with emotion, "I love her. Do you hear me? Do you understand that?"

"Logan," Jean hisses, "You're hurting me."

Only then does he become aware of his intense grip on her, his knuckles white, the claws itching to be freed. As he releases his hold she snatches her arm away, rubbing her bruised wrist and slowly standing to her feet, glaring down at him.

"You wouldn't know the meaning of love," she mutters, her face twisted into a bitter scowl as she turns on her heel and marches away.

* * *

"You'll never get away with this," Rogue blinks up towards her captor, the slightest wobble in her voice exposing her doubts.

"Really?" Stryker challenges, scrutinising the girl with a penetrating stare, "It seems I already am."

"What do you want from me?" she demands, her eyes never flinching from his hardened gaze.

"Nothing," he answers bluntly, "You're just bait Rogue, to entice the one I really want."

He pauses dramatically before continuing, studying her reaction carefully, "The Wolverine."

Her heart clenches but she maintains her glare, daggers of ice, watching a cruel smile peel back on his face, "You see, rumour has it the Wolverine has a weakness. And that weakness is sitting right in front of me."

Without warning he grabs her hair violently and pulls her towards him until she can feel his dank breath on her face and a spray of spit with every hissed word.

"I know the Wolverine. This is his home and I am his family, not some teenage girl who has somehow brainwashed him into thinking he is anything other than an animal."

He releases his grip and she trembles unsteadily on her feet, struggling to find her balance. But it's his triumphant declaration, spoken with steadfast confidence, which causes her legs to buckle beneath her as she crumbles to the floor.

"Weapon X is coming home."

* * *

Okay, I know I promised lightness, but Wolvie is a little pissed with the recent turn of events and he did not appreciate my attempts to sprinkle humour into this particular chapter.

Happiness will ensue...


End file.
